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People doing silly things 2003-09-14 - 3:29 p.m. 
I've calmed down since this past thursday. Part of me is still upset, but then I understand the Modus Operandi of Dr. Zivago and how the primary investigator (PI) usually doesn't get involved with the day-to-day details. In a way I am getting the graduate school experience moreso than even actual grad. students. Sure it really sucks sometimes, but there are positives.--- Friday at the lab mostly involved taking care of administrative stuff. I argued with Dr. Ziv on three separate occasions about whether we actually needed a red trash barrel (for biohazardous waste). He stated bluntly that whatever Wrangler wanted, he got. "Do you understand why?" He asked me with a 'what the fuck? don't you get it?' face. See, Dr. Ziv balances between going by the book and doing stuff on the sly. Combined with getting mixed messages from different Mt. University personnel, it's difficult trying to lay down exactly what to do and what seems obvious. Case in point was his idea that the department will pay for red biohazard bags. The stockroom guy said they don't carry that. If stock doesn't have it, the department ain't paying for it. Dr. Ziv just said he'd deal with the 'goddamn thing' on monday. It's funny but he reminds me of my grandfather--sortof endearing in the abusively intimate way that only an apprentice and their master can cultivate. ---- Home was the usual business. Mom didn't scream about anything so I counted it a good afternoon. I mostly caught up on reading some web-comics, e-mails and the other assorted bits that errode hours from your day like gum disease. Usually a pleasant gum disease, though, I admit. At around midnight I was decided, it'd be another witches' sabbath of photography in the irridescent lichen of the LA harbor. It was time to go Long Beach again. I paid careful homage to the ludicrous speed limit of 45 mph, careful to wave in my main rear-view mirror at a mini-van that was two inches away from my bumper. We were on a sloping bridge corkscrewing down. They waved back. At first I tried finding that wharf restaurant down in the Bladerunner sprawl below. My first few tries weren't much good. The more that I thought about it the less I wanted to park near drunks, sailors and worst of all drunk sailors. I looped back through the empty streets, suspiciously eyeing the 'pedestrians prohibited' signs and the freeway/motorway on-ramp. They were all empty curves in bad lighting. I'd originally planned to park somewhere on Ocean Blvd. and make my way across 5 blocks, like a miniature faire, except I'd be the faire. I noticed some open 2 hour parking stops but they didn't entice me. I turned right toward the river, circling under and around concrete sky-concourses and filled parking lots in the middle of nowhere. That's when I passed by the bridge. All of the sudden a swathe of sapphire blue exploded against my eyes. The structure stood potent over the river. I shook my head and commented to myself that it was a photographer's wet dream. There was a large industrial plant nearby with truckers loading and offloading, but there was an open parking lot nearby with a few spaces. I struggled to get all my equipment together as a pretty woman in the car next to me looked on in amusement. It was all there: my tripod, my camera case, my black trenchcoat and my black fedora. All I needed to do was add a liberal helping of muttering to myself and I'd keep the humans nice and distant like. Oddly enough, though, there weren't many people out and about. Some illegal fisherpeople were over to the right in this small inlet that curved around tall buildings of corporate quiche. To my left were the occasional loading people, maybe the occasional car driving down the pike to slow down just enough, just to see what that black blob was with a strobe light in front. I went underneath the bridge and saw a boat out yonder. There were people fishing yet I couldn't see them. I set up shop and got some decent shots before they pulled away. After that I meandered up and down the shore of the river. I saw a nice opportunity to use myself as model, but I'm thinking I'll save the "sitting on rock and looking out over the water" thingy for later. My favorite moment came when two feral cats that'd be trapsing about took some interest in me. By interest I mean that they ran away whenever I got within 30 feet of them. At one point I'd walked toward the rocks on the shore and they ran over to them, hunkering down. They just stayed there as I walked off for a few steps. I stopped. I looked at this white cat, obviously the female from the lead that she took from the other cat. Both were staying put. Something in my head clicked, like the 'good idea' bulb had sparked into life. I composed what I can only describe as a realm of surrealism. The cat was very understanding. After all that I packed up my goods, climbed into the car and made my way back home. I'd meant to go by this artificial lake to take some shots (since it's right next to the main boulevard and it was 3am). My plan was interrupted when I heard something splash against my windshield. There was a car over on the other side of a natural divider. My guess was I'd suddenly entered a time warp into the 1950's or 'Porky's', with Chet deciding to take the boys out for some wholesome group rape and tossing paint balloons onto car windshields. The balloon this time around was just filled with some viscous egg stuff, but it was enough to make it dangerous to look through 95% of the windshield. At first I wanted to chase the fuckers down, get me a license plate number, snap a few pictures and sue their asses so I could get me some new photography lenses, but I..er...put on the windshield and spread the shit around more. Accidentally. So I headed home, parked and left the camera to download shots while I dicked with paper towels and detergent. I absolutely fucking despise the 50's. ---- The highlight of my day was editing some photos and talking to Dork on the phone for awhile about nothing in particular. He might be coming around in October if a friend down here invites him to a wedding. I'm guessing we could conquer West Hollywood if he came by again. Ah West Hollywood, you lobotomized disco crack whore..but a photogenic lobotomized disco crack whore, mind you. I'm wondering if I should try for that artificial lake tonight. I'd have to do that thing at 2am. Gotta show up to the lab for Zivago goodness and jamborie handouts at 11:30am tomorrow. What the hell, sleep deprivation never killed anyone. Caused major psychosis, an exploding apartment and the destruction of all the credit card buildings downtown, sure, but nothing serious. ---- Photography: Comment: This is the 'realm of surrealism' that I got several shots of back on saturday morning. This is one of my favorites so far. See, I am a beautiful and unique snowflake. Either that or I'm a good cubic zirconium. Maybe both. Then again, ain't we all. |
